


In your eyes (you lie)

by flowerrichie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Athlete Eddie Kaspbrak, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerrichie/pseuds/flowerrichie
Summary: Eddie's head turns violently to look at the boy. "Are you breaking up with me?"Richie gives him a long glance, just to lock eyes with Eddie's ones that look like amber under the lights of the shop in front of them. He focuses on his cheeks full of freckles and his stomach turns upside down. "We can't break up. We're not even together, we're just-""Having sex" Eddie concludes with a resentful whispers.or, Eddie and Richie try to make their different lives work together.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	In your eyes (you lie)

**Author's Note:**

> I've started this one a couple months ago and I've finished just a few days ago. At the beginning, it was pure sadness and I was planning everything to be ten times more tragic, but I thought that Reddie suffered enough in the canon universe, so I decided to give them a break.  
> The title is inspired by "In your eyes" by the weeeknd and I truly hope my English is alright: I revisided it, but English isn't my first language, so find mistakes is always kind of complicated.  
> Hope you like it.

**T** here's anything that Richie hates more than sports, the thought of sweating or being absolutely okay with sharing the same space of someone who stinks, to have his breath short and just to move until his limbs hurt. He always avoided anything that required fatigue and any physical activity. Well, except for sex. Which is also the reason why he needed to rethink some of the stereotypes he always gave for granted about athletes, because surely the one he was sleeping with lately was one of the cleanest and more concerned about hygiene person he ever slept with. Not there are a lot of people, just a few that Richie can count.

However, what the same guy confirmed about athletes -or maybe high school athletes, he doesn't want to generalize- is that they are real and superficial assholes, caring about anything but themselves, their prestations and about their social status. Richie tried hard to think otherwise, he even gave the benefit of the doubt to some of them once he fell under the charm of a popular athlete, scolding himself about not being superficial. But, in the end, he was right.

Being an athlete is more than practicing sport at school: it's an heavy title, not an healthy path, that comes with frivolous things like trained bodies and people who fell for them, which inevitably lead to popularity and power. Power to say and do everything they want. 

Richie isn't exactly the one to complain about observing good looking people playing sport at school, or just not giving his eyes the pleasure to land eyes on pretty girls -or pretty boys lately, which is honestly confusing- walking around knowing how cool they are. He appreciates what he sees most of the time and understands that not everyone can be popular and fit, having abs and being clapped on the back as a greeting every morning. What Richie doesn't get is how most of those people fall easily into the stereotype of being popular, but also mean.

He always knew it, because he lived with those behaviors for years now, seeing people abusing their influences in the hallways to be cool, or accepted, doing some of the worst things. It was something that Richie could have understood -he really could have, no one would have liked to live as an outcast- but it was also something he wouldn't have done, in someone else's shoes, if it meant hurt a person. He wasn't like that, contrary to others and, he thinks, and it isn't fair. 

He lived a normal life, with a few ups and downs since the early years, in a wealthy family and never really minded to search for a status: mostly, he just wanted to go through school as fast as he could and leave Derry at the first chance. What he didn't planned was him turning from the well known Trashmouth, the kid unable to shut up once in his life, to the new Trashmouth, the one that apparently used his mouth to more than talking and that Henry Bowers outed in front of too many people. Richie doesn't like to think about the moment in which his long time school bullie called him fag aloud, making sure everyone could hear him: he remembers everything, but he prefers to ignore the memory as much as he can and it isn't easy. Not even now that Henry Bowers is out of the games -his dad sent him somewhere, but no one knows exactly where- and all the insults should be water under the bridge. But everyone remembers things that compromise others' reputations just for the sake to make a person's life miserable, even though they are just rumors based on anything.

That's why he tenses during a Saturday night in Bev's company and she tells him to ignore them, while standing in Derry's only diner, packed with too many people. And, honestly, he has done it for years now, but did it work? Richie turns towards the voices, hands on his sides, near the counter where he and his friend are waiting for their turn to order, after they've been to the movie. Richie recognizes those voices one table away from where he's standing, but what surprises him the most -but should he really be surprised at all?- is a silent figure sitting among the bunch of idiots, with his eyes focused on something vague in front of him. 

Eddie Kaspbrak looks like he doesn't want to be there, while it's happening, but Richie thinks it's unfair because he's the one being used as a target for something he doesn't even know if it's the truth or not, if it's really something sinful as everyone keep saying or it's nothing bad. He never talked about it to anyone -except one person, who's now avoiding his eyes like he's the plague- and he kept his secret to himself for years now, drowning in a sea of rumors and words directed to him that he didn't know how to feel about, while his only friend kept her mouth shout, but gave him long concerned glances whenever something happened. However, Beverly never brought it up and Richie is glad, even now that he's actually sleeping with a boy -his first one, people tend to see more than it actually is- and he's most of the time a bunch of tense nerves walking around. If she notices Richie's weird behaviors, she doesn't say anything about them. 

"Richie" she calls him, not too quietly, gripping the boy's arm with her pale hands. She gently pulls him by his elbow. "Ignore them, they aren't worthy"

He stays quiet, memorizing Bev's words, without turning or replying back, too focused on looking over the table where there are four people he has the displeasure to meet every day and moving his eyes from face to face. He meets three gazes only, because one of them is too much of a coward to look up and meet Richie's eyes. In the meantime, his legs keep moving under the table, giving all his feelings away anyway. 

"What, Tozier?" Anwar McCall asks and Richie is called back from observing Eddie who is probably wishing to disappear. He lifts an eyebrow to the boy who just called him, broader shoulders of someone who works out everyday and piercing eyes of someone who wants to take your soul and destroy it in tiny pieces. He's just too much of a bad person, to be even considered attractive, at least in Richie's taste. "Speechless for once? I thought you always have something to say"

Richie pretends to relax, even though his hands are shaking and his heart is pounding fast on his chest, showing a nonchalance he doesn't feel in his bones. "Years of practicing, I learned to pick my battles"

Which is, in fact, true.

When he was a kid he was always in troubles because he couldn't keep his mouth shut -literally- and his body still from much more than a couple of instants, sometimes even putting people around him in danger. And, even though he hated to be seen as anything but annoying, he wasn't sure he could be someone who could enjoy things or life being quiet. 

When he grew up and his parents started to show concern about their son's behavior, that didn't fade away how doctors had predicted, he had been forced to do something about it. He wasn't happy about how everyone tried to keep him down, but he didn't want to be constantly treated as a freak either, so when he had been prescribed with meds at the age of thirteen, he knew he didn't have much to do. He hated them, how they made him feel always fuzzy and confused to the point in which he had to overthink about everything, because he didn't feel the impulse to just throw everything out of his mouth. On a hand, Richie learned that it was easier to live when you have a low profile; while on the other he always felt like he was constantly under some kind of heavy drug, and not a pleasant one. 

From time to time, during the years, his head told him to stop taking the three daily pills, because that boy wasn't him, but eventually his hyped behaviors came forcefully back through his actions and words after a few days and his mom forced him to start his therapy again, after found out he quit them. Richie never blamed her, she did her best and he was difficult to manage, so at some point he just stopped fighting both his parents and the doctors. Maybe even himself.

"Very mature" Philip Monroe comments sarcastically, sitting next to the last figure at the table, Andrew Davis. They were less scary than Anwar, but Richie doesn't like them in the same exact way. "But you didn't reply our question"

"Maybe I don't want to" Richie spats slowly and simply. When Bev moves towards the counter, after the previous client asks for his order, and she smiles at the man working by the diner. Her hand doesn't leave Richie's arm, like he could do something stupid. She asks for two chocolate milkshakes and smiles. "It's not like I have to"

"Richie-"

"I mean" he continues, ignoring Beverly's interruption and this time he doesn't want to think about shutting up. "It's not like I have to justify myself if I just had a romantic date with Marsh here, or if we can't wait to skip to the part where we will shag after our sweet milkshakes. I don't think I have to explain to you if I'm just trying to hide my latent homosexuality or if I truly think she's the woman of my life" Eddie's heads falls even more, eyes on his half empty plate, an action that for a couple of seconds catches Richie's attention, while a few people turn toward their conversation. "I think some mystery would be good, to keep you all busy and curious, wondering what I'm doing. Or  _ who _ I'm doing. Am I right?" 

"You're so full of shit, Tozier" Anwar picks a fries from his plate and pushes it unceremoniously on his mouth. "God, your voice is so annoying"

"Yeah, that's a common thought. You should have thought about it before asking me if I'm trying to force my heterosexuality out hanging with Bev on a Saturday night" Richie exhales theatrically, when with the corner of his eyes sees Beverly pay for the two milkshakes that they ordered and that now are waiting for them near the cash register. Richie takes them in his hands, while the man, who's giving Bev her change, looks at her company for a long moment. The boy turns fully towards the table again and Bev starts to follow him towards the exit. He slows down. "Anyway, we'll leave you to your masculine talk"

"When he will stop talking?" Andrew murmurs and it seems like he's about to beg Richie to stop doing it.

The boy in question stops for his last words, while Bev is waiting for him by the door and keeps it open for him and his hands are full with the milkshakes.

"Hey, Eds" Richie says loudly just like he can be, biting his lips while the other boy's head snaps after being called in to the discussion. His eyes are wide and his mouth shut in a tiny impenetrable line. Richie bears his scared heavy stare. "You look like you're about passing out, is there something wrong? Eat some sugar, we don't want mom to worry, do we?"

Richie leaves the diner in a rush, surpassing a frowned Beverly and taking a long restoring breath once the air hits him. He let the cold winter breeze embrace his body and caress his angular face. He keeps his eyes wide open, knowing he’s still visible from the inside and clearly not wanting to show himself like someone who kept his breath for all the time he waited for his order. The girl with him reaches him on the first stairs of the entrance and in a smooth, well known, movement he gives her one of the chocolate milkshake. He takes his own to his lips and starts walking, refraining the need to turn.

“I owe you three dollars” he says slowly, sipping from his fancy plastic cup a sweet drink. 

“My treat” she says, following the boy in the street and tasting the chocolate on her tongue. “You always offer me cigarettes”

Richie purses his lips around his straw and thinks about it. In the end, he nods. “Fair”

After that, they stay in silence for a while, walking towards the parking lot and stopping near Richie’s car and leaning on it, as they haven’t just met unpleasant people, who only wanted to mess with him. The weakest of the pair, both of them knowing that.

Beverly had a reputation since she moved during the end of elementary school and Richie was stupid enough to listen to the rumors flying around at her arrive, ignoring the fact she seemed really cool and preferring to keep living his life, without being involved in someone else's mess. Or maybe she was just a bit intimidating, even for him, and he was just accepting the common idea, because it was easier: she looked like someone who brought troubles, talking back and walking around with her head always high, not avoiding other people who, contrary, avoided her like she was a burning flame, incapable of being tamed. Richie found out that she was much more than the gossip spreading around the school hallways, when she approached him one day, after hearing him blaming himself for forgetting his Wistons: she offered her last one, probably searching for some company and a friend, and they shared everything since then. Or  _ almost  _ everything.

“You gave them too much importance” she says slowly, playing with the straw in her half empty milkshake cup. “They don’t deserve it”

He looks in front of him, leaning next to her on the side door of the car and breathing in the cold breeze. He shrugs lazily. “I’m just tired”

“I know, but does it really work?” she asks and turns towards Richie, just to look at his profile, because he’s too proud to bear her eyes. “Does put up with their shit works?”

His lips purses, as a car drives past them on the main road, out the parking lot. For a moment its lights touch their faces. Then it's gone. “Should I let them talk about me at their own pleasure? When and how they want to?"

There's a moment of silence, but not hesitation when Beverly speaks again and she cuts the quiet atmosphere around them. She shrugs. "Maybe. Yes" 

Richie frowns, clearly confused, and takes another sip of his drink, when it's inevitable to him to turn to look at her. " _ What _ " 

"I mean, Richie, it's our last year" she explains, like it should be obvious and she shouldn't explain it to him. "I know it's been like this for years, because it's Derry and nothing it's fair, but maybe, at this point, our only option is to survive a little longer and keep us away from those people and their worthless troubles" 

Richie makes a short, annoyed, sound with his throat. "Surviving sucks" 

"I know, honey" Bev whispers and she pushes herself against Richie's side, making their arms brush even though they are covered in sweaters and jackets. The boy doesn't pull away, because he's someone who lives to be spoiled and he likes them all: the intimacy, the affectionate gestures and all the attention a person can give to him. "But we have almost made it. We can't let them ruin everything, can we?" 

He doesn't answer, but shakes his head, which is everything that Beverly receives before another silence falls over the two of them and they stay like this for another couple of minutes. Just them, their drinks and a cold night gripping their bodies. 

When they finally finish their milkshakes, there's no sex after that, because they aren't what people think they are, so he drives her home and stops his car two house before the Marsh's one. Like always, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and he observes her until he's sure she reaches her home safe. 

He stays parked in front of a stranger's driveway for a bit longer, thinking and giving himself a hard time. When he feels like he's losing his mind, head against the wheel, he decides it's time to go back home and hope to sleep until he can forget everything. 

  
  
  


Richie works every afternoon, except for Saturdays, on the town blockbuster, which is the coolest job he could have asked for, right after working at the comic shop and at the arcade. But he wasn't that lucky. 

He started his shifts the previous summer, when he didn't have school to attend and the owner of the place -a thirty five years old man, whose name is Grant and who probably dreamed to leave Derry, failing miserably- searched for an employer. The previous one quit, so Richie took the chance right after his eyes landed on the wanting employer sign hanging on the window of the shop, one sunny day in which he was having a walk with Bev. 

During the summer working was easier, without classes to attend the morning after. And even if he was tired he could always come home and have a long sleep after his shifts, oversleeping and waking in the middle of day asking his mom if she could gently make him breakfast. Now that school started again, from a few months, things are getting more difficult to manage, but he tries hard to balance everything, because he likes the idea of having money to spend without asking his parents and some others to save for his escape from Derry, once graduated. It's a nice thought, when he finishes working part-time, but with school to attend six days a week, sometimes he would like to close his eyes, whenever he is, and have a quick nap. 

This idea crosses his mind, as he waves goodbye to Grant after his Monday shift of five hours and the sky is getting dark outside the shop, above the small and horrendous town of Derry. Outside there's the typical Maine winter, humid and violent until you feel like a knife is cutting your exposed faces and your body starts to shake in shivers. Richie closes his jacket from the bottom to the top, until the cold zip touches his Adam's apple and he pushes his fists inside the pocket of the cloth, hoping to reach his car as fast as he can. 

He speeds his walks, with the backpack that he's carrying around -inside the homeworks he must do for the following days- bouncing on his shoulder to his every step. 

He's about to reach his car -an old one that his dad brought him for his last birthday- remembering that he parked it a few shops down the street, when he looks up, keys already in his hand, and almost stopping as he spots a figure leaning on the front of the vehicle. 

Richie blinks a few times and it takes him less than a second to recognize the person who's looking at his shoes, clearly distracted by his own thoughts and embracing his torso covered in a heavy jacket probably to fight the difficult weather. Eddie's head snaps back to reality, when Richie approaches the car and slows down, until he's stopping at less than three feet from the other. 

They don't say anything for a second or two and while Richie is giving his back to the self-service laundry in front of the car, Eddie's face is now lightened by the white and yellow neons of the shop. He swallows, with nose and cheeks red and his sporty bag falling from one of his shoulders. 

"You're late" it's the first thing he says, moving his stare constantly from Richie to somewhere vague. His tone tries to be hard, but his face says otherwise. He looks at the clock hanging on the laundry wall and nods toward it through the window. "Your shift ended twelve minutes ago" 

Richie scoffs under his breath and lifts an eyebrow behind his glasses. "I would be late if we had a appointment, but I'm sure we didn't arrange anything"

"No, we didn't, considering you avoided me all day" Eddie spats and moves away from the front of the car and turns toward the other boy. He has to look up a bit, just because, now that they both grew up and went through puberty, Eddie doesn't completely reach Richie's height. They still have a few inches of difference between the two and surely Eddie won't grow more than this in the next couple of months. 

"I didn't avoid you" Richie says casually and he doesn't even seem like he's defending himself. He states it like a fact, even though they both know it's a lie. "I've been busy" 

Richie starts walking towards the driver door, with the slowest steps and the car key already unlocking the vehicle: before he can look behind him to see how Eddie is reacting from the sidewalk, he notices the boy walking to the other side of the car and opening the door of the passenger side. A moment later Richie sees him disappearing, sitting and throwing his bag on the backseats in the exact moment in which the taller boy opens his door and leans until he can see inside. Eddie shuts his door and starts warming his hands, one in the other. 

"What are you doing" Richie asks flatly, keeping his balance by lifting one of his arms and pushing it against the car roof. 

Eddie turns and his hard stare observes the owner of the vehicle, until he sighs and his eyes soften. "Please, get inside" 

"I don't remember me inviting you" Richie says and he promises himself to not let Eddie get under his skin, just because he said  _ please _ , meaning it. In the end, he accepts against his own will, because he's freezing and because he's not an asshole who will leave someone out in the cold, just because he's mad. 

He's really, truly, mad and he definitely avoided Eddie all day, while bumping in him between classes and breaks. Resigned, he sits, tosses his backpack with the other's bag and shuts his door close, when his hands grips the wheel feeling both nervousness and warmth running down his spine. He doesn't start the engine.

"I know you're mad" Eddie says after a moment falling even more in the seat and probably wishing to disappear. If Richie would turn to look at his company, he probably would notice how he keeps glancing to the sidewalk in front of them and to every person who walks by. No one who he can recognize, but this doesn't help him to relax. "I'm sorry" 

Richie turns, leaving one hand on the wheel and another on Eddie's back seat. "Are you?"

"I am" the boy says loudly and on the defensive, looking at a very serious Richie, eyebrows furrowed and eyes hurt. "I swear, I am" 

"You're not" it's the other's statement, cutting like a knife. "Because if you would be, you wouldn't act like an asshole every damn time"

"You know, why I can't say anything in front of them" Eddie insists, closing his eyes and rubbing his freckled and good looking face with his small hands. "You know why, so don't start, okay?" 

"Actually, I don't know, because defending someone it's just a fuck nice thing to do to help a human being" Richie spats and his eyes are wide open, while Eddie's expression contracts with mixed feelings. Is that guilt? Maybe. Richie leans away and leaves the other's seat, taking again the leather wheel under his cold fingertips. He touches the texture nervously. "Defending a person from homophobic insults doesn't make you gay, Eddie" 

"But I am" it's a loud sentence and it fills the whole vehicle. He pushes his fist between his thighs and blinks. "Maybe. I don't know" 

Richie shrugs. "Whatever makes you sleep at night. I'm honestly tired of this" 

Eddie's mouth let a pitched, short but high, scream. "Why must you always be like this?" 

The other's head snaps and his big brown eyes look at him like they would like to reduce him in dust. " _ Like this _ what? Like someone who's constantly insulted by some dickheads, because they thought I blew boys since middle school? Funny that the only one I've ever given a blowjob it's one of them and an asshole just like the rest of them"

"I'm not like them and you know that" 

"Do I know that?" Richie asks purely rhetoric. "Do I? Because I'm starting to think that I don't know shit about you and you always make sure to get your position worse. You're exactly like them, you're just a jock using his power to hurt others" 

"We know each other since third grade, Richie" 

"Well then, I know them since first grade" the one behind the wheel states. "Doesn't mean I really know them" 

"But we-" 

" _ We nothing _ , Eddie" and it sounds almost definitive. "Just because you let me borrow your pencil once or I helped you a few times with Bowers, when we were in elementary or middle school -who even remembers that!- didn't make us nothing more than classmates. Now, just because we have sex together, we're not more than that neither" 

"Don't do that" Eddie takes a long deep breath and, with the corner of his eye, Richie sees him pushing his head against the seat and closes his own. There's a moment of silence and then "We're more than classmates. Don't cut me out"

Richie shrugs again, but swallows all the tension, hoping it would disappear. His hands caressing the wheel. "I don't know-" 

Eddie's head turns violently to look at the boy. "Are you breaking up with me?" 

Richie gives him a long glance, just to lock eyes with Eddie's ones that look like amber under the lights of the shop in front of them. He focuses on his cheeks full of freckles and his stomach turns upside down. "We can't break up. We're not even together, we're just-" 

"Having sex" Eddie concludes with a resentful whispers. Then he turns to look out of the car window. "Don't do that anyway. I-I can do better" 

"You say that every time" Richie says flatly. "We've been doing  _ this _ for months and you always act like a dick when we're in public. Honestly, I don't know if it's worth the trouble, I'll be out of this town in a few months and it's not like we will see each other again"

Silence falls over the pair and they let it embrace them, to the point it's heavy and suffocating. Richie's hands keep touching the wheel, never leaving it and turning his knuckles white from time to time. Eddie glances at them whenever it looks like Richie is about to break the object under his nervousness. He swallows his pride and then he whispers something to the other boy, knowing he will hear it anyway in the quietness of the car. "I hate when you say that we don't know each other" 

The taller boy looks quizzically at him. "What?" 

"I try" Eddie continues, sadness coming from his tone. "I may be a dick when we're with other people, but you make everything  _ so _ difficult and I try to make you go out of the shell" 

"Don't change the subject of the conversation, we were talking about you" Richie says, already on the defensive. "Don't blame it on me because you're a coward. And before you say it, you know I'm not talking about you liking boys. I'm talking about everything else" 

"You're not better than me" Eddie spats back and this time he pulls himself away from the seat and turns towards a frowning Richie. "You escape from a lot of things. Starting with your feelings" 

"What does it supposed to mean?" 

"You always reduce this" Eddie points between the two of them, after a moment of uncertainty. "To sex. But it's not and you know that" Richie let's a light nervous chuckle slip from his lips, but the other makes him stop by talking again. "We hung out for almost nine months now, don't tell me anything changed since then and don't tell me you don't know shit about me. You know me better than anyone, lately" 

Richie breathes heavily and he knows Eddie is right, because saying they're just classmates that are having sex its reducing what their are sharing. It started like this, when a drunk Eddie kissed a pretty much sober Richie at Bill Denbrough's party, it was late April and they were in the back garden of the house because the latter was having a smoke and the former decided to follow him, commenting Richie's questionable shirt first and then taking his face to kiss him. Richie was confused at first and, even though his legs seemed to be jelly and his stomach moved like a tsunami just attacked him, he pushed Eddie away. 

He kissed just one boy during a summer in middle school and that was all, mostly because that person was Henry Bowers's cousin, who actually kissed Richie first. It confused him and even though he thought about it for years he decided it meant nothing. He still liked girls, he even dated a couple for short periods, so he pushed any thought of boys in the back of his mind, trying to not feel guilty everytime he thought about them or someone brought up how  _ sinful _ homosexuality was. He blamed what happened and the successive thoughts to curiosity and never talked about it to anyone, until Eddie came into the picture. 

They weren't -for real- more than classmates at the time, but when the weekend after the party the athlete gripped Richie's arm and brought him inside an empty classroom, talking about a kiss that the taller one had hoped the other had forgot, too drunk to be lucid, they just found themselves tangled on a web of more kisses, that no one of them saw coming.

Eddie wasn't Richie's first kiss, nor with a girl or with a boy, but he was a lot of other first things for him and the summer that came not much later was something that forced Richie to analyze every aspect of his life. While Eddie moved in the darkness of never been attracted to any girl that he tried to date -he confessed it to Richie, one afternoon in backseats of the last one's car- Richie was sure he felt some attraction for Emily Bay, that he kissed in ninth grade, as much as much he felt for Eddie when they kissed the first time at Bill's house. The only difference was that he and Emily went to the movie just once, kissed and never see each other again because she dumped him without a reason after a few days, while with Eddie things took an unexpected turn: instead of parting ways, at some point, that summer glued them even more and they were always sneaking away to reach isolated places, like the quarry, or just some random spots where they could park without being seen. They made sex at the end of June, when Richie parents were away from a one day trip and Eddie made up an excuses to his overprotective mom to leave his house on a particular hot day. After that, they hardly had some time to stay at one of their places -maybe just a few- so they always had to stay together in difficult situations or places, mostly Richie's car. They never said aloud, but, in their minds, sneaking made what they were going through even dirtier. Sometimes Richie would have liked to tell Eddie that they weren't doing anything bad, but he wasn't sure about it, because they were two boys doing things they shouldn't have while not even being in a relationship, except the physical one. In the beginning, Eddie called it an  _ experiment _ and Richie wasn't much more expert than him, so he was okay with trying and seeing where it would have taken them. 

Eventually, he found out his answers: it took them to start school again, seeing Eddie unvolutary driving away from him because -of course-  _ popularity _ while trying to fit classes, Richie's shifts and Eddie's track training to actually seeing each other, while they spend most of the time arguing over things that doesn't work anymore. 

Sometimes, Richie thinks he should take it like a sign to just let this difficult relationship go, with all the long deep thoughts and the cries that comes with them -because,  _ yes _ , he cries more now than in his whole life- until Eddie kisses him and maybe -like now, that the boy is looking into his eyes with a hopeful stare and lips parted- he has to accept that things are turning just more difficult not because they're moving away, but because things are getting more serious and, by consequence, more difficult to bear. Starting with Eddie's lack of tact, that Richie knows comes from fear, but he can't really justify. 

" _ Rich _ " Eddie calls him and his furrowed expression is a punch in the stomach. Just thinking about feelings and Eddie and feelings  _ for _ Eddie, Richie's eyes start to get watery. He looks away, but before he can blink hoping to hide them, he feels something touching gently -maybe even shyly- his hand. Turning, he glances to Eddie locking his own fingers to Richie's long one, before hiding them between the seats so they can't be seen from outside. "We don't have to talk about it, I'm sorry"

Richie shrugs, like he doesn't really care. Eddie knows he's bluffing, so he squeezes their hands together. "It wouldn't change anything. It is what it is" 

"And what is it?" 

A tear falls on Richie's cheek, just to slow down on his high cheekbones. Eddie doesn't even dare to touch and dry it, for once, more scared to break the other's bubble in which he made sure to hide, than to actually be seen by someone passing by. The night is already falling over them, their faces more difficult to be spotted and recognized. 

"We're not ready. No one of us is and this place will destroy us at the first chance to give us something more" he says simply, almost dismissively. "Then it would be too late, you know, college and everything else. So what's the point" 

Eddie doesn't nod, but the silence that follows is something that says more than every word he could express loudly. He keeps his hand in Richie's and let's the need to cry in frustration pass, because he can't right now. Not when Richie is right about everything and he also seems on the verge of a mental breakdown. Eddie stays quiet, until he relaxes and falls again against the seat. He looks at the other's boy irregular profile, paler than him, but full of freckles like his own. Maybe just a few less, but they look like the galaxy if he observes them carefully. And he did it tons of times, hoping he would have the opportunity to do it another million times. 

"I'll do my best" he whispers. Richie eyes open, but looks in front of him. "I promise you, that I'm serious. Next time they say or do anything to you, I'll make sure to make them stop" the other doesn't say anything and Eddie talks again, squeezing Richie's hands again. He doesn't know if it's reassuring for the boy, or for himself. "Rich, I'll make them stop. Okay?" 

"I didn't say those things to put you in a difficult position" 

"I know" 

"I just want to know you're not like them" Richie exhales and another tear reaches the one who almost dried on his cheekbone. "That you're Eddie from our summer, not someone who doesn't care" 

"I care" it's an impulse, words slipping out with desperation. With the same need, Eddie's free hand moves to Richie's nape and forces him to turn and focus on him. He doesn't even look around before doing so, but with a swallow, Richie does it for them, going back to Eddie's serious face once be sure there's no one. "I care about you, okay? I've been tremendous at showing it, but I'll do better. Do you trust me?" 

It's a simple question, but Richie thinks about it and tells himself that the answer should be simple as well: Eddie made a ton of mistakes, which should be enough to tell him that,  _ no _ , he doesn't trust him because he alway let Richie down. But in the end, it is what it is and they don't have much time to waste arguing and fighting, when they could kiss and make love. At the thought, Richie nods, but doesn't say anything except for a "Don't disappoint me, please" that Eddie answers by caressing the boy's neck and hair, losing himself in his dark untamed locks, when he would like to kiss him instead. But he can't. 

  
  
  


Two weeks and Richie is drowning in deadlines and work, so a lot of times he brings his homework during his shifts and tries to make everything work, so he can go home and sleep one or two hours more than usual. The day after he's tired anyway. 

Homeworks usually don't take much of his time, definitely less than his unsteady concentration, because he's smart and a quick learner, if he wants, which mostly depends on his meds. 

When he was a kid and he didn't have to take his daily pills, he remembers his mom had to check on him multiple times to be sure he was doing something productive and not just tapping his feet on the floor and his pencils on the table, pretending to play the drum. Sometimes she even found the chair empty and the books open in front of it, before going to look for Richie, wandering for the house because  _ he had an idea _ . Richie was a smart kid -even the smartest- but everything had to be a challenge and pure interest for him to take it seriously, which caused a lot of troubles and scolds from teachers, who kept repeating he had potential, but he didn't take anything seriously. It wasn't Richie's fault, so his parents didn't get really mad at him: mostly they did motivational speech, hoping to see a change in the boy. It arrived just with his meds, that lowered down his hyperactivity and gave him some  _ help _ at school: his already high grades became even higher and he stopped distracting his classmates and teachers from the back of the classes. Everyone else seemed happy, so Richie dealt with it. 

Now, he's used to it. To the idea coming on his mind while studying, ready to trap him back in the old habits, but refusing to let himself go and focusing, instead, on what's under his nose, looking for attention. Doing homeworks while at work, anyway, it's more difficult with clients coming and leaving, kids moving around the aisles and touching everything and people asking for their check, while he has to make sure that no one would steal during his shifts. 

Which is also why his head snaps almost automatically, on a Thursday afternoon, from his algebra homeworks and he glances to the two figures who just entered the shop. Richie is about to come back to the number he was writing on his textbook, while sitting behind the counter, when he double checks and the pencil in his hand almost falls. 

Behind a tall Philip Monroe, with his black straight hair falling on his forehead at every step, Richie can only notice a barely smaller figure, brown locks and freckles coming forcefully out on the bridge of his nose thanks to neon lights of the shop. Eddie looks nervous when he meets Richie's stares, at Philip's back, but not scared, which forces the boy behind the counter to not show himself tense because they just entered his workplace. 

"Tozier" the taller of the two says and walks until he's in front of Richie and his textbooks open on the surface between them. The two look at each other for a long moment. 

Eddie interjects before anyone can say anything else, pushing himself in front of Philip and touching the counter with his small hands. For a moment, Richie looks at them, until the owner brings him back to reality. 

"Philip has a movie date, but he doesn't know what movie to pick" he explains, but doesn't meet the other eyes, busy observing the open books nearby. "Can you give him some titles to choose from?" 

Richie blinks once, then twice, with his pencil nervously squeezed between his fingers and a lock of black hair falling on his eye. With a quick gesture, he pushes it aside and adjusts his glasses as well. He looks at Philip, clearly surprised and confused by the request, or by the fact they are talking. That Eddie is talking to him publicly, without using as an excuse that is school related. 

"What is she like?" Richie asks, after a long calculating moment. 

The boy shrugs. "She's cute" 

"He means, what does she like?" Eddie interjects and Richie rolls his eyes, keeping a scoff. "Her tastes" 

"I don't know, it's just the second date" Philip looks around, like he could have an idea just by looking at the walls and the hanging framed covers of some big movies behind Richie. 

"Shouldn it be enough to know if she's cool enough to like sci-fi?" Richie asks and when he receives only a lift of Monroe's shoulders, with some whispers about being analyzed by Richie Tozier -which should be considered an insult and a reason to tell him to fuck off- the employer points to the entrance with annoyance. "Drama. First and second aisles. If you're lucky, she will cry over some shitty love story and you will have to pick the pieces" 

"What if she doesn't like drama?" 

"That's your problem, dude" Richie shrugs. "Next time try to know your company at the first date"

Eddie bites his lips, fingers tapping nervously on the counter. Philip studies Richie for a long moment and then starts to walk towards where he's been sent. 

"First two columns are news" the boy who works there says, tone flat, almost bored deciding to keep being nice. He shouldn't, because Philip and his friends aren't with him, but it's an instinct. "At least you don't make her watch the same movie twice" 

He watches the boy disappear where he told him to check, before turning towards Eddie and smiling like he kept it for the whole time. 

"Hey" he whispers. 

Eddie cracks a smile and, after checking there's no one around, he gets closer to the counter. Not enough to look like he's about to bend and kiss Richie right there, but enough to talk without being heard.

"Hey" he replies, before nodding to where Philip disappeared. "He told me he would have come, so I tagged along to avoid, you know, that he would acted like a dick" 

"When McCall isn't around the others aren't a problem" Richie says quietly and shrugs. "I could have handled him"

"Maybe I wanted to see you" Eddie blurts out and after his words slip out, he glances around again, cheeks red and lip between his teeth. Before Richie can answer or mock him about his embarrassment, he nods towards the books. "What are you studying?" 

Richie lifts an eyebrow, sure the subject it's pretty obvious by the enormous amount of number spread all over the pages and on his open notebook. "Algebra?" 

Eddie frowns. "There aren't algebra homeworks" 

"Yes, there are" Richie answers. "And they are for tomorrow. Second period" 

Eddie starts swearing under his breath a few words Richie isn't sure he even heard him say one after another in the same sentence. He tries to keep the amused chuckle growing in his throat. 

Eddie closes his eyes and swears again under his breath. "Why do we have to study algebra anyway? What's the point? It's not like I'm going to use it to live" 

"Some people will" 

"Well, not me" 

"It's personal knowledge"

"Not that I'll remember it once school is over" Eddie shrugs. "And, please, don't start with the whole jock thing. Spare it to me"

Richie lifts his hands in the air, leaning with his elbows on the counter, but smiling. He glances to the aisles where Philip Monroe should still be, many feet away, before clearing his throat and using an even lower tone. "What if I help you?" 

Eddie jumps at the question, checking around and then looking at the other boy like he just proposed something unimaginable. In any other circumstance, one in which they are alone, Richie would make Eddie notice how he was less scared the first time he asked to blow him in the bathroom of the school but, because they are in public, he keeps the thought to himself. 

"Tonight?" he asks instead and notices how Eddie is actually thinking about it. "Mine. My parents won't mind" 

"I don't know" the other says, uncertainties showing in his words. "We won't study, I know how it will end" 

Richie hums and smiles. "Do you? How?" Eddie scoffs and before he can blow Richie's invite away, the other starts talking again. "I promise. Homeworks first and everything else after, I swear" 

"My mom-" 

"Tell her you're going to Bill to study. You are friends with him, aren't you?" Richie's words are so serious that Eddie is really thinking about them, face contacted and eyebrows furrowed. He nods slowly, but he and Bill Denbrough aren't really friends, they just happen to be good partners in group projects. "Tell her a half truth, or lie, it depends on you. You can stay for the night, my parents won't mind if I tell them you're a classmate. They're nice" 

Eddie contemplates his words for a long instant, leaving Richie hanging for an answer which doesn't even arrive with a  _ yes _ or a  _ no _ . The athlete pats on the counter and blinks, no emotion showing now on his face and, for a moment, Richie feels like he pushes himself too further. 

"Eight. And study first" Eddie exhales in the end, with the hundredth glance around. "Is the time alright?" 

Richie almost trips over the counter and nods vigorously, forcing himself to not make a fool of himself. "Do you want me to pick you up?" 

"No, I'll come by feet" Eddie says and then on his lips appears a smile. "You can give me a ride to school in the morning" 

Richie nods again, knowing they can't properly go to school  _ together _ , but that he will probably leave Eddie near the edifice so they won't be suspicious. The thought of sneaking doesn't even bother him, because he's just overwhelmed by the fact that Eddie is coming to his home. 

He smiles and Eddie gives him a weird amused one, before turning and snooping around the counter, don't touching anything, but reading titles or looking at signs hanging around. 

It's a way to not talk to Richie anymore, because they pushed their luck enough and they don't want to blow everything up. The boy behind the counter understands it and tries to go back to his homeworks, while he feels like his twelve years old self, incapable of staying still or quiet, while patting nervously his pencil on the textbook without focusing. He would like to blame it on his hyperactivity, but he can't and it's all Eddie's faults if he keeps moving around without giving Richie some rest. 

  
  


Richie doesn't like sports, he doesn't like to sweat and, obviously, he makes everything in his power to skip physical education every chance he has. But he's not always that lucky and that day is one of those in which the coach makes him run with all the others, ignoring his protests and showing to the world how bad he is at it, both against athletes and amateurs. 

What keeps Richie from crying out loud to let him lying dead on the field ground is his left but questionable self respect and the fact that he can't really fail the subject if he doesn't start taking it seriously. So he runs and trains with the others, fatigue over his whole body and the thought of leaving popping into his mind a bit too frequently, until it's finally over. And  _ thanks God _ is all he can think. 

So he slips among his classmates, steps slow and Stanley Uris next to him, who's talking about something Richie is not even listening to, as he keeps glancing towards a particular person who's not looking at him, too busy laughing at something his unpleasant company is saying. Richie looks at Eddie, his cheeks flush and his stomach hurts from how much he would like to be somewhere else with him. Just him. But they are not and quickly the boy's attention is forcefully back on Stan, his golden curls and his constantly judging and perennially on guard eyes. 

The locker room is a mess for the next hour or so, like twenty male students showered there, stripped from their stinking clothes and talking with tones higher than the normal standards. Mostly, Richie talks to Stan -and Stan only- and avoids moving his stare away from his friend's face, or the ground, to skip the unpleasant jokes. 

They happened on many occasions and he doesn't want, for once, to remember people he's there, breathing their same air and sharing with them a space where they strip from clothes and shower naked. Since the Bowers event, boys started throwing glances in those kinds of situations and he knows they always look at him, just to catch him making the mistake to look a moment longer to one of them. Even distractly, it would be a good pretest to put up with him, throw him into the lion's cage and destroy him right in front of everyone. 

Richie never was interested in  _ looking _ , actually, to the men's bodies, just because he may like one. He knows how it's made and it excites him not more and not less than the women's ones: he likes to think he's interested more in people whose bodies belonged to, than to the body itself. He's not a kid anymore, so the excitement of a naked body in an adult magazine started eventually to fade away. 

Surely, he talked a lot about dicks before his unofficial outing, joking about them and bragging about his own, but then he understood he was better if he simply didn't do that anymore because he was walking on thin ice and if he wanted to survive that hell, he needed to shut up a bit more frequently. 

But, as already Richie notices, that one isn't a lucky day: he woke up with hair messier than usual -his mom begged him to adjust them before leaving for school- and he had to take part to the physical education class, so now he isn't completely surprised when, while he's listening to Stan's plans for the weekend with his not-girlfriend, Patty, his eyes casually lands longer than he should on someone passing bay with a towel around the waist. He doesn't even realize what he's casually doing, but he's called out about it anyway. 

It's Andrew Davis' voice and, when Richie looks up, face constantly astonished, he notices the one passing by is the one and only Anwar McCall leaving the showers. The latter is now throwing a dirty glance to Richie's direction, who's currently trying to not make his cheeks turn pink for something he didn't do, or should feel guilty for. It was casual, like when your head is in the clouds and casually you look around without focusing on anything in particular: the last thing he would have liked to do was wondering about Anwar's trained body.

"Fuck, Tozier" the athlete says, walking away and towards his stuff lying on a bench. The other voices don't stop filling the space, but they are clearly lower than before and all the eyes catching the interaction tell Richie that they are now whispering about him. "You're sick" 

It feels like a punch in the stomach, hard and violent, but instead of closing in himself waiting for the pain to stop, Richie straightened his posture hoping to not show any discomfort that he will eventually feel anyway. Like usual. 

"I wouldn't look at you  _ like that _ , even though you were the last person left on this planet" he comments, dressing quickly with a clean shirt over his dark jeans. "I have some self respect" 

Someone's laugh, but they aren't laughing  _ because of _ Richie's words, they are laughing  _ at _ him. He pretends to not hear, pretends to not feel all the eyes -but one pair most of all- scanning him, or Stan's stiff body on the bench next to him, who's probably hoping to be out of the locker room as fast as he can.

"You have no dignity, Tozier" Andrew comments and, at that, there are more laughs. "Even less self respect. If any of us would put his dick out right now, you would probably suck him in front of everyone" 

"Fag" Anwar murmurs amused and shakes his head, while some more laughs raise around Richie's heart beating like a drum into a sematary. He's not sure if he should keep saying something, trying to defend himself, or just surrender, but all he can feel is a suffocating sensation taking his breath away. Then someone steps in and, honestly, Richie didn't expect it. 

He thought they would have been just words thrown in the wind. 

"Cut this shit" everyone's turns towards Eddie and it's clear that he isn't sure under the pressure of all the stares. His straightness falters for a fraction of second and Richie notices how his eyes move towards him, just to stop before they can really meet. The boy comes back to Anwar and Andrew, then he throws a glance around, while standing in just his boxer, tanned legs showing and a polo between his hands. "You should grow up a bit and shut the hell up" 

Andrew mimics a  _ what _ to Philip Monroe, who just shrugs less interested than usual, while Anwar frowns and turns completely towards Eddie. The locker room is completely still and silent now. 

" _ Pardon _ ?" Anwar asks rhetorically, lifting his eyebrows in false stupor and using his most falsely surprised tone. "Want to repeat?" 

Eddie makes a face and pretends a bravery Richie knows he doesn't own. He asks himself what he did, how he could have asked his friend and lover to put himself in such danger, but he can't find an answer. Guilty crawls over his whole body.  _ It's all wrong _ , is the whisper into his voice. 

"I said, cut this shit and grow up" Eddie repeats. "I'm sick of you tormenting people. Everyone hates you, how do you sleep at night?"

Anwar laughs, almost genuinely and it shakes Richie. "It's the price to pay for being popular. You should know that, you have that same popularity, don't you? And that's thanks to me, man" 

At that, Eddie takes a couple of seconds before thinking of an answer and when his lips part and Richie is sure he will spat something back, he doesn't say a thing and, instead, steps closer to McCall. Height differences showing up fiercely and Anwar's smiling face that doesn't predict anything good. 

"What?" he asks with a whisper, but everyone hears it and everyone sees Eddie's Adam apple swallows hard. "Should I be grateful?" 

"Yeah. You should" Anwar replies flatly, eyes gleaming with something Richie doesn't like at all. He stands, hands sweating and legs shaking, and Andrew and Philip do the same. The tension is palpable and when Awar laughs quietly in front Eddie's serious face, Richie feels like he's about to pass out _. It's all wrong _ . "You're not so different. You may mending now, proving who knows what, but you did  _ things  _ to be where you are and we know that. Want me to remember them?" 

Eddie stays quiet and Anwar laughs again, turning then towards a pale and for once speechless Richie's, whose lost eyes can't focus on anything but vague points around him. The athlete throws another glance to Eddie, before taking Richie by the nape of his neck, fingers gripping hard, and keeping him still by force. He pushes the boy in front of Eddie, for them to be face to face, Anwar wandering around them and observing both their faces and reactions. 

"Tell Tozier what you did" he says and at his back Andrew laughs, elbowing Philip who looks uncomfortable. If Eddie would look at him, he would know why that feeling on his classmate's face and would remember his excitement when he said to him that his date went well and  _ that Tozier could be cool. _ But Eddie doesn't look at Philip, because he frankly doesn't care about him. 

"Let him go" he murmurs to Anwar, who instead squeezes Richie's nape even more. "That's not funny" 

"No, it's not" Richie confirms sarcastically, voice cracking from being unusually quiet for so long, eyes now on him. He tries to free himself from Anwar's grip, but the athlete keeps him firmly. "Dude, I would like you to-" 

"Let him go" Eddie says, glancing at Richie's furrowed expression, squeezed eyes behind his glasses and lips pursed. "For fuck's sake. I'm not joking, let him go"

"First, tell him what you did at the Aladdin" the athlete says, towering over Eddie's smaller frame. The latter expression falters as he's about to reach for one of Richie's arms and pull him away. His hands stop in the air, as Philip whispers a  _ you are really hurting him, An _ and there's panic in Eddie's amber eyes. Anwar tells Philip to shut up, before turning again towards one of his victims. "You tell us all what you did and I let him go"

Eddie swallows and he knows that looking at Richie's eyes is a mistake, because he feels his own wanting to cry and his throat missing a breath. Before he can think he's probably having a panic attack, Eddie looks away knowing it's the only way to face that failure. 

"You forced me to" he says, with the steadiest voice he can find and he's actually surprised he didn't already start crying in front of everyone. "You know that" 

"No one can prove it" Andrew interrupts and shrugs when Eddie looks at him behind Anwar's shoulder. "Your word against ours" 

"I swear I'm gonna punch you, if you don't shut up right now" the classmate spats, knowing Andrew was there when the event in question happened. Before he can say anything else, he's distracted by Anwar's face now right next to Richie's. 

"Do you remember the  _ starring Richie the cocks sucker Tozier  _ writing on the Alladin's banner?" he asks, but it's rhetorical. His breath against Richie's ear and cheek. "It was him. We met inside the theater, do you remember? I don't know what movie you nerd were watching" 

Richie's heart pounds fast, his head spins and his legs are about to abandon him right there, in front of everyone. In front of Eddie's guilty face. But he doesn't want to look at him, nor he wants to give anyone the satisfaction to laugh again at him. So he straightened his posture and he forces his legs to collaborate. 

"I went for Pulp Fiction. You probably for some dumb comedy" Richie murmurs and tries to free himself again. "Now that you remembered everyone that apparently I suck dicks and what a piece of shit Kaspbrak is, can you let me go?" 

"Richie-" Eddie starts, but he recognizes the mistake by calling him by his name and purses his lips. "Tozier. I… They-" 

Anwar lets Richie go and he looks at Eddie's guilty face just for a fraction of second, enough to understand how fast pain is propagating inside his chest. It hurts more than Anwar's fingers gripping his neck, now red because of the pressure.

"They forced you" he murmurs, but gives Eddie his back. "You told it already"

Then he walks away, looking for things left abandoned by the nearest bench, next to a concerned Stan and among all their other classmates, maybe too much interest in the exchange. Richie doesn't say anything else and Eddie calls him again, but the last thing he hears before leaving is Anwar's voice cutting the silence again. 

"See? You're not better than anyone"

  
  
  


Richie expects Eddie to show up at work the same day, he just doesn't expect him to do it even before the end of his shift. It kind of takes him off guard, when he exits the back door of the store for his break, cigarette already between his lips and hands in midair ready to light up the stick. 

Eddie is lying against the bricked wall of the dead end street, hands in his blue jeans and eyes glued to the ground. He's so focused and clearly somewhere else, considering his furrowed eyebrows, that he almost misses Richie leaving the shop and stopping with one foot on the sidewalk and one still inside. After realizing Eddie didn't hear him, for a moment Richie contemplates going back from where he came, but instead he lets the door slam at his back. Eddie's head snaps. 

"What are you doing here, Eds" Richie says, not really asking, and finally lighting his cigarette up. He also notices that Eddie's posture flinches a bit when he hears the nickname, but he doesn't say anything about it. "You should be home. Or at training. Or whatever" 

"We need to talk" the boy replies, voice trying to sound convincing. Before biting his lip and looking around. "Please" 

Richie takes a drag and when Eddie steps away from the wall, the taller of the two notices that the other doesn't get too close. 

"Sorry, I barely have time for a cigarette" he says and, after that, he takes the stick between his fingers and shows it to Eddie, who in any other circumstance would surely say something about how bad smoking is. This time he doesn't. "How did you even know when I would take a break?" 

"I didn't" 

Richie looks at Eddie, who's currently glancing at his shoes. A moment of silence, before asking the question he's dying to hear his mouth saying. "How long have you been here?" 

Finally, the other looks up with an expression that says he's been caught. "A couple hours. One and half, maybe two. Can we,  _ please _ , talk about this morning?" 

Richie smokes again, but he doesn't let the surprise show through his face that stays unreadable. He ignores Eddie's last request. "What if Grant wouldn't allow me to have a break?"

"I'm sure it's illegal for an employer to not have a break during a six hours shift. It doesn't happen, does it?" Eddie replies and when Richie's piercing eyes don't even blink, too busy scanning him and making him feel a bunch of nerves, he sighs. "I would have gone with plan B" 

"Which was?"

"Wait by your car" Eddie explains quietly. "But I really hoped I could have talked to you before the end of the shift. Barging inside didn't seem appropriate" 

Richie laughs quietly, but Eddie can tell he's nervous. "Is cornering me now appropriate to you?" 

"Yes?" the other replies, but he's not sure is the answer Richie would like to hear. "I mean, it would be a bit manipulative of me asking you to talk in front of Grant. I know you would tell me yes just because you wouldn't want to give a show"

Richie pretends to think about it. "So now that we are alone, I can definitely tell you I'm not really in the mood to hear you trying to apologize. Right?"

"Yeah, but I'm gonna stick with plan B and then C" Eddie says uncomfortably. "Please, don't push me away" 

Richie almost coughs, but before Eddie can get closer and check on him, patting gently his back, he makes the other understand he's fine. Then asks: "What's C?". 

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it and opens it again. His cheeks are colored by a pinkish tone. "Dropping at yours and hope you won't kick me away in front of your parents"

Richie rolls his eyes. "That's exactly what I would call being manipulative"

"And that's why it's my plan C" Eddie admits and, when Richie sits on the stair in front of the backdoor, he's invited to take place next to him with a nod of the head. 

"You have until the cigarette burns out" hearing those words the smaller boy tries to protest that it won't take much before that lethal weapon Richie likes to kill himself with will end, but the other interrupts Eddie's attempt to say something. "Take it or leave, K. You time is already ending" 

There's a moment of stall. Richie looks in front of him, face unreadable which is the most obvious sign that he's hurt, and Eddie who contemplates the boy in front of him and the only thing he can think of is that he doesn't want to lose him. A deep breath and he sits, leaving between their bodies a couple of inches, just to be sure to not step too much into Richie's personal space. 

"Rich" he calls, the other doesn't turn or show any sign he will bend anytime soon. "It happened long before we started seeing each other. Do you remember that, right? The Aladdin accident-" 

"I wouldn't call it an accident" Richie protests quietly, as his lips let a cloud of smoke out in the air. "Accidents stands for something that happens casually, by mistake, not planning it-" 

"I didn't plan it" Eddie underlines, interrupting Richie. He looks at the ground between his feet. "I didn't want to do what I did. I-" 

"But you did it" 

"They forced me. They-" Eddie's mouth stops, feeling his head spinning and eyes tired. He rubs them, hoping to push that feeling away. "I know I could have refused" 

"Yeah, definitely" 

"I know, it was a mistake, okay? I knew back then and I know now, it's just that I was trying to have friends for once and I was so desperate that I would have done almost anything" Richie opens his mouth to say something, probably a sarcastic remark about  _ doing anything _ , but Eddie keeps talking. "You know me since elementary school, you know how manipulative my mother is. She never let me hang out with other kids and I've been  _ so _ lonely growing up. Sports in high school it's been my way out and those assholes were an unvolutary side effect. I'm not justifying my behaviors, I'm just explaining what my head thought and how I felt as I did what I did that one time and many others. To you and to others. I knew it was wrong, I felt guilty, but I did it convincing myself it was my chance to not lose the only company I ever had"

"There were plenty of nicer people to hang out with than them"

"There were?" Eddie asks. "Do you remember who I was before I started running and hanging with them" 

"I nicer guy" 

"I nicer guy you never invited to spend time with you" at that, Richie looks up from his almost finished cigarette, which was the subject of almost all his attention. Or, at least, it was what he wanted Eddie to believe. The boys' eyes meet. "You or the others. You spent a lot of time with Bill and Stan when we were kids and you never invited me when I tried to be your friend. I really hoped I could have played with you. With you, or with other classmates. No one ever  _ wanted _ me as a friend"

Richie looks down. Is that guilt? Eddie doesn't want to make him feel guilty. "We thought your mom wouldn't let you hung with us at the Barrens or, you know, fooling around"

"She wouldn't, Rich. But she wouldn't like to know I'm seeing a guy either, but I'm doing it anyway" Eddie whispers. "But that's not the point. The point is that I made poor choices in friends and made a lot of mistakes, okay? But I'm really trying to fix things, alright? I know what you think, about losing sight of each other once school will be over, but now I can't lose you" 

Richie blinks and when the cigarette falls distractly on the sidewalk, the only sign that tells Eddie he notices is a quick look at the stick and his shoes that turn it off. The athlete is scared he will simply leave him there, not that his time is over, but instead Richie turns his torso towards Eddie's. The latter takes a breath of relief. "I'm sorry about the fact we never asked you to play with us" he says slowly. 

Eddie shakes his head. "That wasn't the point of my speech. I didn't mean to bring it up so you could apologize, I wanted to show what was my life before sports. And before you" 

"I know" Richie whispers. "I know. But it's something I need to ask sorry for. It wasn't nice of us. We noticed you were trying to hang with us, but you were just  _ so _ difficult to stay around, with all your anger and your mum always breathing down your neck and we thought we couldn't get along. We were something like eight or ten, we made a dumb choice, so. I'm sorry about that"

"It's not your fault that I looked for someone else's approval and ended so low" 

"Oh, no, I know that" Richie assures, sarcastic coming from his tone. Eddie barely refrains a snort. "That was only up to you. I know for sure that loneliness wouldn't make me do mean things to people, but we're not all the same, I guess" 

"Or maybe you never really found yourself completely alone" Eddie says and Richie's eyebrows lift, surprised but maybe even challenging. "I mean, you, Stan and Bill aren't close anymore like you were as kids, but now you have Beverly and she's friends with Hanlon and Hanscom. You spend a lot of time hanging with them. You have cool parents who kiss you because they aren't trying to manipulate you, they love you exactly how you are, not how they want you to be. And even when you go to the ice cream parlor the waitress you befriended give you free extras on your ice cream. No offense, but what do you really know about loneliness? About people  _ avoiding _ you?"

It's clear that this light accusation takes Richie off guard, but he's quick at masking it all, feelings going through his stomach and chest. Then he shrugs and contemplates the wall in front of them. "You can be lonely even surrounded by people" 

"I know. But you're not one of those cases, are you?" it's rhetorical. "The people you're surrounded by don't just want to _hang_ _out_ with you, Rich, they _love_ you first"

There's a moment of silence and Eddie knows Richie isn't saying anything just because he can't say anything about it. There are plenty of people who dislike him, but there are plenty of others who love him to death. Eddie is scared to think that, maybe, he belongs to that second lot. He runs his palms on his jeans and takes an encouraging breath. 

"Listen, I came to tell you what happened that night and tell you that I'm responsible for what happened to the Alladin, but also about all the choices I made before and after that" Eddie says. "I know that, at this point, we could just part ways and that's fine, I guess, if you want me out of your life. I mean, it's not  _ fine _ , but I'm gonna accept it because it's your choice. But I want you to know that I'm trying to do better. Those behaviors are consuming me already and I can't bear it anymore. Just tell me that you see it, that I'm trying to make up about everything I've done wrong, because I can't-"

"I knew" Richie interrupts Eddie's monologue, eyes moving frantically and hands shaking one around another. The smaller boy shuts up immediately, when the other swallows and glances his way. "I knew you were the one who wrote over the banner at the Aladdin. I mean, I suspected it, but I was almost sure"

Eddie frowns, surprised and confused by the news. "How?" 

"I recognized your handwriting once I looked at your English notes, a couple of weeks after the event. You have a weird way to do your  _ O _ like you do them backwards, which gives them a weird shape" Richie admits. "And I know one of the employers of the Aladdin, who told me you come back to help clean the mess afterwards. Until I looked at your notes, I thought you were just being decedent because your friends did it. Which they definitely did, in the end"

Eddie feels a tear rolling down. "You didn't tell me" 

Richie shakes his head. "Why? Before hanging out together you were just like them to me, maybe less evil, but what could I have said? You would have negate and I would have brought up an uncomfortable topic I didn't want to think of"

"What about after?" 

"I always hoped you would have brought it up yourself, but you never did and I couldn't blame you" 

"How could you not?" Eddie says, maybe too loudly. He takes his head between his hands and it's a second the one in which he starts crying all his feelings out, breath short and feeling again the asmathic kid her mom loved to control through fear. "I'm  _ so _ sorry" 

Suddenly, Eddie doesn't expect it at all, a hand touches his back and that warm touch is reassuring, familiar, trying to bring him back from his state. But Eddie shakes under it, scared about everything. "I know you are. But I also know I say a lot of bullshit, Eds, like when I say you're like them. You're not. You're never been. It's easier to think about you like one of them, even more now, because maybe it would hurt less when you turn your back on me, but I know you're not nothing like them. I just lie to myself so I can hate you a bit. And I know that you felt guilty whenever you had to do or say something to please them. Not a behavior I like, but ignoring some humanity under all that anger wouldn't have been fair. You need to invest on something worthy, when you find the right one"

"Am I worthy?"

Richie smiles. "Yeah, maybe I like to think, you're the right one" 


End file.
